


the best of thieves

by sheHalcyon



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/F, F/M, gay angst fic ok wow, i have no idea whether i want to continue this but it's a one shot for now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 19:24:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6341986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheHalcyon/pseuds/sheHalcyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was the girl in love with the girl. Bound to end in tragedy, but the lonely crevices of her heart still clawed on to whatever tendrils of love and affection the other girl would throw, only for it to end in ashes, fists full of smoke. She picked up scraps. She fed off bones. Marinette Dupain-Cheng reduced to groveling at someone's feet. What had she let herself become?</p>
            </blockquote>





	the best of thieves

She was the girl in love with the girl. Bound to end in tragedy, but the lonely crevices of her heart still clawed on to whatever tendrils of love and affection the other girl would throw, only for it to end in ashes, fists full of smoke. She picked up scraps. She fed off bones. Marinette Dupain-Cheng reduced to groveling at someone's feet. What had she let herself become?

This was never about pride, in which she once thought she had plenty of. This was about waiting. A girl could become a woman and would still never witness the moment where Chloe Bourgeois would hold her hand under the bright light of day. Their kisses were always stolen, snatched furtively behind bushes and in gym locker rooms, atop rooftops and famous monuments. In the dead of night when riffraff and unsavory folks roamed about, they were amongst them, the best of thieves, giggling behind trees and licking chocolate off each other's lips as they stole moments after moments after moments. Adventurous they both were, they quickly discovered tiny gold mines, spots where the cameras didn't shine, and there, they would dance together upon small 2x2 patches of grass, the moonlight their limelight as they would tango to the buzz of crickets, of the howling Parisian midnight trains.

It was exciting, once. A delicious dance they both shared with kisses aplenty as they gracefully sidestepped the paparazzi and the public, their friends and family kept in as much darkness as the sky of their midnight escapades. It was sensible. Practical. Chloe had her reputation as the mayor's daughter. Marinette had her civic duty as Ladybug. But when Marinette retired, Gabriel Agreste put behind bars as Hawkmoth, Marinette craved more from the other girl. Midnight tangos and stolen kisses weren't enough to satiate her growing appetite for Chloe's love, her presence, her body, but most of all, for what seemed right. They were in the most romantic city in the world and yet their love was a point of shame, comparable to soiled sheets, bloody underwear, a drunken mistake.

But that was their accepted truth. What was forbidden would never become just bidden. Chloe never wanted to rock the boat, always willing to push the limit for the rush of adrenaline but always kept ten fingers and toes firmly behind the line. So Marinette pushed. Chloe pushed back. And both of them cracked.

The nights were they would break up were the painful nights, harrowing at best, excruciating at worst. So many nights of Marinette just sobbing ferociously into her pillows and falling asleep with tears crusted in her eyes like chandeliers, only to walk into the classroom the next day and find the blond had the same swollen look, only better hidden by pounds of concealer and a watery smile.

Kisses were given, apologies whispered, and the cycle would repeat again, weeks later, but Marinette never once questioned her love for the girl. Never questioned the why or how or when or where she fell in love with Chloe -- she just did. There were only moments after moments after moments where Marinette just fell harder.

When Chloe wept into her arms, refusing to tell Marinette what had happened, only saying, "I just need you, Mari. Just you. Nobody else."

When Chloe found out she was Ladybug, squealing as she yanked out a similar uniform from a closet, "Now we can matchy-match."  
  
When Chloe whispered into her ear, a wrinkle in her button nose, "I think I might love you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

It wasn't over. It was never over. They would fight and breakup but get back together again, sure enough as the ever rising sun and ever falling moon.

"My father--"

"Your father. Your father, of all people. That's what's stopping you from being with me?"

"Marinette, you don't understand. You know him. He was elected because of his Catholic values. If people were to find out that you and I were a thing, fit would hit the shan, if you get my gist. And there's just new circumstances and--"

"New circumstances. On top of shit hitting the fan." 

"Mari, if you could just listen to me--"

"Why don't you run back to daddy and let him deal with your messes? I'm done with you."

As if slapped, the blond jerked her head, ponytail aswing, face reddening. Tears filled her eyes.

"You can't mean that."

"I do. I'm done, Chloe." Poison. Poison was in her mouth and Marinette couldn't stop spitting out the venom. Years of resentment that built up as she wished for movie dates and coffee dates and dinner dates and hand holding and kisses in the Marais that would never happen -- dreams that were always just on the tip of her fingertips, never for her to hold, just to touch. But she deserved better. She deserved love under the sun. "I'm no back door ho and I'm done waiting for you to come around. I'm your girlfriend, not your fucking lapdog. In fact, why don't you go hop on back to Sabrina. I'm sure she'll be more willing to take you into her loving arms as your new mistress now that you're single again. For the twelfth time."

When Marinette stormed off, Chloe didn't call her back like usual. No Mari, no sorry, no I love you's. This time, she just let her go. So Marinette left.

Marinette didn't see her for two weeks. Tears were shed, accusations of abandonment hurled at Chloe's photos, drunk phone calls and apologies were made and sent to voicemail. When Marinette finally saw heads or tails of her snooty blond, it was not in person, but a paper tabloid.

> _PRINCESS IN PINK: MAYOR BOURGEOIS' DAUGHTER ENGAGED TO HEIR OF ROYAL ENGLISH FAMILY_

She never thought Chloe could have looked any happier in a photo, clinging onto some pasty, puny, pathetic little English man, but there she was. Smile radiant, jewels draped around her body like an expensive center piece, lips as red as wine. Just weeks ago, Marinette was sucking on that lip, fingers fumbling on the blond's bra as they kissed behind the Louvre. The bra was Victoria's Secret, black lace lined with pink, and Marinette had licked and nibbled at the skin where the cups had chafed Chloe's breasts as the blond moaned into her ear. Her nipples tasted sweet. Her lips, sweeter. But you couldn't tell that she wasn't in love with the boy, the way she looked up at him, hearts in her eyes. The way she once looked at Marinette.

Chloe was always such a good actor.

"Get a load of Chloe," said Alya, ribbing her at lunch. "I guess the rich do get richer."

Marinette's lips were a thin line. "Right."

She said nothing the rest of the day.

Adrien popped by after school, knocking on the balcony window to her room, small raps against the glass like drizzle and rain. Tikki unlatched the pane for him and when he crawled in, feet first, he found Marinette curled in a ball, tabloids of Chloe's engagement, much like her heart, ripped to shreds in the wastebasket.

When she heard the window open, Marinette sighed, shooting Tikki a look. But all those years she'd screamed at Chloe over the phone or come home weepy drunk, Tikki was by her side, offering, if not soft words, then her unwavering, loyal presence. How could she berate her friend for worrying about her now? So Marinette turned her annoyance to the boy who'd just come in: "What do you want, Adrien?"

"You okay? You seemed a little bit off during class."

"I'm fine. Just leave me alone."

"You know you can tell me anything, my lady." He tentatively reached over to stroke her hair. Grudgingly, she let him.

"We're not superheros anymore. You can stop with the nicknames."

"You'll always be my lady to me. Once a princess, always a princess." He smiled. The softest smile she'd ever known. Her best friend, her partner, her other side of a coin.

"You're a dumb cat, you know that?"

"Yeah," he said. "I know."

She leaned into him and he murmured into her hair, "She's not good enough for you, Marinette."

Panic. Shame. She jerked away, backing into the corner of the room, hackles raised like a feral animal. "How did you--"

"Everyone with eyes and half a brain would know if they saw you. Chloe could have fooled a crowd, but you." He shook his head. "You're so obvious when you're in love, don't you know?"

Marinette had promised herself that this time, no more tears. This time, it was over. This time, she wasn't waiting. But still, hearing Adrien's words, she couldn't stop the waterworks. She sobbed and wept and bawled and screamed and howled. Again and again and again, she would cry for Chloe and again and again and again she would go back to her the moment Chloe called her name. Mari, Mari, Mari -- how each uttering of her pet name seemed like a sorry. She didn't want apologies. She wanted promises. And Chloe was never wont to give any.

"Shhh," said Adrien as Marinette wept into his arms the way Chloe would cry into hers. "I'm here. I promise I'll always be here."

She didn't want to lead him on. Exchange one blond for another. She knew how he felt about her, his feelings never changing, only growing over the years, especially after he found out she was Ladybug. But she never once saw him as more than a classmate, a friend, her partner. But it was a moment of weakness that he was there, pliable, and willing, so she turned her head up and kissed him. Kissed him hard, tongue down his throat, one hand wrapped tightly in his hair as the other twisted the fabric of his shirt to bring his body closer to hers. And he kissed back. He kissed her back and she felt nothing but hollow.

 


End file.
